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Macrina Hill was born dead. She blinked dozily into the eyes of the Grim Reaper and exchanged her life for her mother’s, unknowingly killing the only person to love her.
She was named by a nurse, who looked at the screaming baby, screaming father and no-longer-screaming mother and decided that to saddle this girl with the name of a Saint was fair.
Saint Macrina the Younger
An early Christian concentrated virgin, who practiced sanctity and asceticism she devoted her life to prayer and the spiritual education of her younger brother. Established a convent for virgins and died on the ground, refusing a bed.
Macrina is a doll to Maria, now. She is a porcelain girl, occasionally seen in crumpled dollar notes, the whiskey on the lowest shelves and awful pigtails.
Macrina is a vague memory, fermenting slowly into a dream-like half-made up narrative. Maria does not remember being her, but can see, like a passing neighbor, the way she would play hopscotch and don't-step-on-the-crack on her way to the corner shop where she would play ip-dip-sky-blue and catch-a-tiger-by-its-eye between the liquors she could just reach.
Macrina wore a little blue coat and red shoes and green elastics in her hair.
Madeline Hill was born in a school reception, when Ms Looker stood up to peer over her desk, then at the name on her clipboard and said, sing-song in harsh Southern accent
‘Mar-see-ree-nah’
Macrina she’d been stuck her hand up and announces, in a sharp, clear voice; Italian accent hidden carefully behind an extra vowel and relaxed ee’s
‘Thats a typo ma’am. My name is Madeline’
Saint Madeline
Patron Saint of schoolgirls, who followed Jesus from a young age. She overcame ill health at a young age and went on to found the Society of the Sacred Heart.
Maria once walked into a Madeline. Her head hit her stomach and then Maria’s stomach hit the floor, but then she looked into brown eyes, not blue and remembered to breathe again.
Madeline was quiet and perfect, she learnt how to tie her shoelaces before any other student, then learnt how to tie ribbons in her hair and belts behind her back and her daddy’s shopping bag handles together so the bottles wouldn’t clink so much.
Madeline wore a white shirt and blue skirt and purple bruises under her jumper.
Margret Hill was born on the pavement outside middle school. Madeline had been tired the night before, and it was the only M name that came to her before the bell rang.
Margret haunted the spaces between the west lockers and the band room, she takes her father’s advice ‘to be seen and not heard’ and transposes it into her own key; contorting herself into piano strings and saxophone bells and kick drums to be invisible. Heard, but not seen.
Saint Margret
A saint spoken to by Joan of arc, who consecrated her virginity to God, was disowned by her father, adopted by her nurse, proposed to by a Governor, then cruelly tortured on her refusal. She was eventually decapitated, after being swallowed by Satan in the shape of a dragon.
Maria finds Margret rather abruptly in the ‘00s rom-coms Clint forces her and Natasha to watch. There, in the background, she catches sight of the young, misunderstood girl, who listens to rage rock on a cassette player and ignores the boys pulling her pigtails.
Margret was full of bitterness and spite and whiskey that one time she tried to see what her father saw in the bottle of a bottle and ended up seeing the bottom of the toilet in excruciating detail.
Margret wore black long sleeves and band tees and aux cable headphones around her neck, nearly tight enough to make a noose.
Magdalene Hill is born in a dark records room at 10 minutes past 2 on the Monday morning Margret was supposed to start school. Its a decision fueled by denial of a broken rib and an existential crisis along the lines of AP classes.
Magdalene practiced raising one eyebrow in the mirror until people no longer laughed at her name and she didnt walk; she strutted, right down the middle of the corridor, occasionally walking slam into people and continuing on.
Saint Magdalene
Patron saint of the contemplative life, converts, penitent sinners, perfume and women, witness to Jesus’s crucifixion and resurrection. Seven demons had been driven out of her, and she was occasionally seen as a prostitute.
Maria tastes Magdalene sometimes. Its something akin to blood, or rather, like a taste of skin scrapped from the underside of your bicep mixed with something sickly sweet. She tastes her in the blur of girls she used to kiss in bars, the lipstick stain around a second hand glass and whenever she eats burger king. Magdalene kissed girls, stole drinks and worked in burger girl.
The day she hit her father was the last day her father hit her, and high on that, she hit someone else. Then someone else. Then the wrong person. Magdalene got arrested and bailed out by a 20 year old Blonde who liked to have the favor returned in her car’s backseat.
Magdalene wore baggy jeans and thick cut chains and push up bras, because The Blonde told her to.
Monica was born standing in her underwear in a sterile room as the doctor asked if there was any chance she was pregnant. The last thing Magdalene feels is a curious mix of pain and shame as she looks at the crescents carved by her own fists into her palms
‘No’ she replies calmly, feeling The Blonde’s rancid breath on the back of her neck, the ache in her lower back, the scratches on her back
‘I’ll check anyway’ the doctor winks and Monica emerges
‘The only thing you need to check are your records, since my name is obviously Monica’ she snaps
Saint Monica
Known for her outstanding Christian virtues, the suffering caused by her husband's adultery, and her lifetime spent praying for the reformation of her son. She was buried, then forgotten until her body was moved three times, and rediscovered a thousand years later, by boy boys digging a hole to plant a football post.
Maria tries to steam Monica out of the creases of her dress uniform. She exists in the space between motivation and deprivation that can be snuck into after a year without proper human contact.
Monica is a bitch. But, she’s a bitch who ranks higher than those who call her bitch. Mostly. Monica polishes her shoes and shoots her targets and gets her ass slapped by the superiors who call her ‘darling’. Monica is not unsure of herself. Shes unsure of her past, her future and the present only when she drips back to consciousness, dress hitched to her waist, bleeding in an alley. But Monica is also in deep denial. So Monica is not unsure of herself.
Monica wears camo and camo and dress uniform creased because her flat does not have an iron, the back of her thigh bears the mark of one deep enough to scare her from the Walmart middle aisle.
Mary Hill was born weeping for the lost soldiers of Monica’s battalion.
Patron saint of nuns, the sick and young women.
Marina Hill was born at the crossing by Cooper’s square when a woman clasps her hand and thanks her for Mary’s service.
Patron saint of kidney sufferers and protectress of nephrology
Matilda Hill was born the day Marina ate two meals in two days and showered with the light on.
Patron saint of widows and and intercessor for parents who have conflicts with their grown children
Each woman can, every now and then, be caught starting at Maria in the bathroom mirror; blinking, eyes narrowed at what they have now become.
Maria Hill was born slowly. Forged in the coals of a war noone can really understand. Maria Hill can be found usually in her office, often in the gym, sometimes between the legs of a Redhead and rarely at church.
Maria Hill is a kintsugi woman held together with quick-dry gorilla glue, whispered Russian sweet nothings, and a therapist called Janet.
She is born of:
Macrina’s innocence, her hopscotch and her games.
Madeline’s intelligence, her bows and her accents.
Margret’s fortitude, her drumsticks and her walk.
Magdelene’s steadfastness, her sexuality and her survival.
Monica’s ambitiousness, her rank and her tolerance
Mary’s grief, Marina’s suffering, Matilda’s recovery
She is born of hatred, originally, and made with love, softened by the hands of Fury and Clint and Natasha, and Natasha.
Saint Maria
Patron Saint of rape victims, girls, youth, purity, charity and forgiveness. Her father died when she was nine, and she took on household sutures when her family moved in with another. Afternoon, Alessandro, the 20 year old son of this family made sexual advances towards her. He stabbed her 14 times when she refused to submit to him. She died forgiving him. She was eleven.